


The Shaman's First Wedding

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established relationship story in which Blair figures out one of the things a shaman is good for. Originally posted at the archive in 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shaman's First Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> It's been sitting on my hard drive for eight years. That's long enough.

 

## The Shaman's First Wedding

#### by Tazy

  


They weren't speaking much, because they were hiking along in single file, carrying packs, and although they had taken a few breaks, they'd been on the move for over an hour. Once and awhile, with a hand gesture, Jim Ellison, in front, would point out a deer or a bird or a tree, and Blair Sandburg would say, softly, a word or two about it in response.

Sandburg was glad when Jim pointed to a wide spot in the trail and they stopped. He turned to face down the trail and stretched out his arms and legs one at a time. "I thought we weren't going to stop until we were at the top," he said, shrugging his pack off his back.

"Someone's coming."

"Yeah?" Sandburg tilted his head.

Ellison turned his head a little. "Two men. Angry."

Sandburg kept quiet, letting his Sentinel listen. He wanted to ask questions, but knew it wouldn't do much good while Jim was concentrating. Angry? He pulled his pack back off the trail, automatically checking for cover, for the areas clear enough for men to pass through; the forest was thick here, and it was a little dark under the canopy of trees. At Jim's signal he followed him off the path and behind some brush. They watched as the two men came around the curve, their voices raised. One complaining, one soothing. Eventually the strangers came even with the hidden men, then passed them. Sandburg watched until the others were hidden by the trees and then mouthed, "What?" at Ellison, who no longer looked tense.

"Their names are Tim and Dave. They're having a domestic crisis," Ellison said, waiting while Sandburg shrugged into the straps of his pack and adjusted them.

"The kind that leads to fists and bullets?" Sandburg asked. He'd had enough of fists and bullets, which is why they were taking this weekend off, far away from city streets and city problems. "I don't think so. It's disappointment. By the way. You know how I was taking you to a little-known spot with a beautiful glade and a small stream?"

"Yeah?" They were moving slowly along the trail now, Ellison again in front.

"It's better known than I thought. In fact, it's their favorite spot, and it's the place they picked to get married in."

Sandburg processed that. "Two guys," he said, lifting one eyebrow.

"Who invited all their friends up to witness the event. They get all the way up here to the parking lot, and found a forest ranger with a message. Brother John has broken his leg. So they're arguing. Should they just have the party anyway, and the ceremony later, back home? Will any of their friends show up? If someone calls around with the news about Brother John, will everyone assume it's all off?"

Sandburg shook his head.

"It turns out a some friends took everything they needed up to the camp spot yesterday, and are waiting for them. They have enough time to load everything up and hike back down to the parking lot before the other guests get there. Or, they could just go ahead. Now they're arguing about which of their friends could step in for the preacher. The one-Tim-says that he doesn't want their wedding turned into a joke. He's afraid it won't be solemn enough. He doesn't want to be married in a parking lot, either. He talks almost as much as you do, Chief," Ellison offered in an aside.

"So what does-Dave?-say?"

"It will be okay. It doesn't matter where it happens, it's okay if Tim wants to wait, I love you, Bud, it's okay."

"He sounds supportive."

"But tired. Tim is talking about how he pictured it all. Get up there in the morning, lunch with Tank and Tipper-"

"Tank and Tipper?" Sandburg laughed out loud, and that wasn't easy at this altitude. "Man! Are you sure?"

"Tank and Tipper," Ellison repeated stubbornly. "And then they get everything ready while the guests arrive, and then they set up the sleeping tents, and when everyone is there and rested from the hike and the work, the ceremony. Then cake-"

"They hauled a cake up here, too?" Sandburg asked, amazed.

"And champagne. And then the dinner and a campfire, with traditional singing and then everybody goes to bed-he imagines the others all going first and leaving him and Dave cuddled by the fire. Then the next morning-"

"There's a night of passion missing from this account. Unless his idea of a honeymoon and mine are _majorly_ different," Sandburg observed. They turned off the main trail, following a faint tract through the mossy trees.

"They have leftovers for breakfast and everybody hikes out except them. THEN they have the passion. Morning, noon and the next night."

"Much better," Sandburg approved. "I don't blame him for not wanting to give that up."

"Did you ever want that?" Ellison asked.

"Night of passion? How soon you forget." Sandburg made a sad tsking sound. "But if you mean a wedding? No. Although I understand the need for ritual acknowledgment of a relationship, I always knew I never wanted a traditional wedding."

"I had one. Ten hours in a tux and tie, and half the time it felt like I was being ignored. Maybe I was. Mostly her relatives, mostly her friends."

"See? I'd never put you through that."

"Thanks."

"What are they talking about now?" Sandburg wanted to know.

"Tim's still talking about everything going wrong. And he has a cramp in his leg."

"Ow."

"Now he's apologizing for being such a bitch and Dave is saying he understands."

"While hiking along with full packs. How old are these guys, anyway?"

"Twenty-five. Thirty, maybe."

"Shit."

"Hey, old man."

"Hell, yeah. The job will do that to you."

"Your first year went well."

"They didn't vote me Cop of the Year."

Ellison laughed out loud. "It was an oversight."

"It was what I said to Captain Lattimer." Sandburg countered. "You know it was. That was my only major screw up all year."

"Probably. He felt bad enough when they caught his patrol officers taking bribes. You didn't have to call him an immature, emotionally-impaired enabler."

"It just came out."

"Too bad it was true. He tattled to Banks."

"And the man was a bully," Sandburg helpfully pointed out.

"You know, anyone else would have seen the assignment of two weeks working with Officer Friendly as a punishment. They wouldn't have completely re-written the curriculum, recruited thirteen minority teenagers to the Junior Patrol, rescued that kitten and ended up on the front page of the paper."

"Heh," said Sandburg. To change the subject, he asked, "What's Tim complaining about now?"

"His blister."

"Was he the taller one? Could you tell?"

"Yeah. Dave is the one built like you."

"I'm thinking about being jealous."

"Don't bother." They reached a steep spot and both of them saved their breath for a few minutes, until the trail leveled off again.

"They've reached their camp," Ellison announced. "Tim likes it. Dave is just standing there watching Tim run around looking at everything. Tipper and Tank have put up a pavilion or something."

"Yeah?" Sandburg hiked on.

Ellison watched him for a few minutes and then announced, "I can practically see you thinking," he accused.

"I do that," Sandburg admitted modestly.

"I'm wondering if I'm going to like it when you finally let me in on the plan you're hatching."

"Is that a hint that you want me to think out loud?"

"Just clue me in," Ellison suggested.

"Here's the pivotal thought. Shaman of the Great City. I could do weddings."

"You could do weddings?"

"Hey. Anthropology background. I've studied rituals."

"I know you could. But they weren't going to have the wedding until later. It will mean a major change in our plans."

"Have to re-think them anyway. They've got our camping spot."

"There's another place I like about a quarter-mile further on. It's more off the path."

"So we could set up camp, leave our stuff, come back."

"Yeah. I'm supposed to come with you?"

"Can't do it without you," Sandburg grinned. Ellison eyed that grin with some suspicion but didn't say anything.

So they passed by the spot where a little side trail climbed up to a small meadow, currently marked with a striped awning of red and white which could be glimpsed though the trees, and hiked on. Ellison eventually led them off the path to a pretty little glade where the sun came down and the ground was dry. They rested, and then made camp. Afterwards, Ellison stretched out in the sun and Sandburg sat in front of their tent and watched him doze, while into his own hair he braided a vine and a bit of silver chain he had found on the trail.

Without opening his eyes, Ellison said, "The suspense is killing me. What exactly are we going to do over there?"

"It's still fluid. Right now, I've been wondering how stupid I'll feel if they turn down my offer," Sandburg said.

"You don't know."

"It will unroll the way it unrolls. Let's piss, wash our hands and join the party."

Ellison sat up, gave a stretch and then stood easily. He laughed when Sandburg gave him a dirty look and climbed more slowly to his feet. As soon as they were both standing, Ellison pulled him close for a kiss.

"If you start that," Sandburg murmured next to his lips when they broke for air, "we're going to be late for the party."

"We'd have our own party," Ellison suggested, nosing under the curls and nibbling the ear lobe he found.

"Later. I don't want them to have time to make any firm alternate plans."

"Right. Do we bring anything?"

Sandburg nodded. "I need some things from my pack." He went rummaging, tucked a few things in his pocket, and said, "Let's go." Without their packs, they could go side by side for the most part, although Sandburg had to drop back when the trail became narrow. It was certainly faster going down hill. They approached the camp by the trail, making no effort to hide, and when they came to the edge of the camp, they stopped and looked it over.

Tank and Tipper turned out to be women, square and compact, wearing their hair in braids and dressed in practical camping clothes. Probably efficient as hell-the camp looked great. In the center of the meadow was the awning, with some camp tables under one side of it, and a tarp spread out on the other. About fifteen feet away, there was a circle of stones for a fire. On the far side of the meadow, in the most perfect spot, the women were putting up a fancy new tent for the honeymooners. Their own small two person tent was tucked into another nice spot further up the mountain. Dave and Tim were blowing up air mattresses, and wasting most of their breath on laughing. It was a nice morning, with the strong sun burning away the morning fog early, and giving the air a fantastic scent.

Rather to Ellison's amazement, Sandburg just stood there, not only managing to be quiet, but looking rather serene. Eventually Tank noticed him and came over. "Are you here for the wedding?" she asked, but she was frowning because she did not know them and was unsure.

"Yes. Would you call Tim and Dave? Tell them the shaman wishes to speak to them."

It wasn't quite a question. More of a command. She looked from Jim to Blair, frowned again, and then went up the trail. Everyone had noticed them now, and after a quick whispered conversation with all three of the others, she led the small group came down to them.

"How can we help you?" Dave asked, stopping in front of them.

Sandburg spoke. "I hear you're short a preacher for the wedding."

Glances were exchanged. "Uh...yes. That's true," Dave said.

"I don't know what your religious beliefs are but if it will serve you, I can offer a ceremony. I have had the way of the shaman passed to me from the Chopec, a South American tribe."

"Oh, wow," breathed Tim, obviously entranced with the idea.

"It depends on what's involved," Dave said, cautiously.

Very wise. Sandburg smiled his approval. "That it may be an informed decision, let me explain that the ceremony involves ritual bathing, an herb tea, a promise exchange and no illegal substances or acts," Sandburg said quietly. "Talk it over in private. We will wait by the trail, and you can tell us your decision."

"Uh. Okay. Thank you," Dave said, and the small group watched as Ellison and Sandburg moved down the path to the main trail.

"How are they taking it?" Sandburg asked, sitting on a fallen log.

Ellison tilted his head. "Variously. Tim thinks the idea is just too cool, and Dave has his doubts. But he was raised Lutheran and had his doubts about Brother John, too."

That made Sandburg laugh. But then he said, "It's funny, but...when I thought about it, I knew exactly how I would do a wedding. A lot of ideas from a lot of cultures, and it was just there. In my mind. And I knew that it was right to offer this. To men, or women, or anyone who is excluded from traditional services. One thing this is not going to be is traditional."

"Nobody expects normal from you, Chief."

"Thanks. I think."

"Huh. It didn't take long. They're coming."

Sandburg remained seated, waiting for them. He thought about the picture they must make, with the shaman on the log and the tall buff man looming silently behind him, arms crossed, his expression severe. It was theater, but one thing Sandburg had learned as he investigated what it meant to be a shaman was that theater was part of the package. People expected it, needed it.

The group approached; Tim and Dave in front, Tank and Tipper behind. "We think we'd like to take you up on your offer," Tim said, as they all came to a halt in front of the shaman.

"Can you explain a little more what's involved?" Dave asked.

Sandburg nodded. "Let us do this traditionally. Go to your camp. We will approach again. Greet us, offer us something to drink. We will sit in a circle and I will answer you questions."

"Oh. Right. Give us a minute, then," Dave said, and they went back to their camp, one or the other of the group looking behind every minute.

"It should be an interesting wedding," was all Ellison said.

"Oh, yeah. Just wait." Sandburg stood up and began to hike up the slight incline, Jim behind him.

"What's with the ritual drink?"

Sandburg laughed. "I'm thirsty," he admitted. "Besides, the way I see it, this is going to take awhile."

Ellison grinned, but made sure his face was solemn again as they approached the group. He was beginning to get an idea of what his role was in all of this.

They approached the camp. "Greetings, shaman, and welcome," Tipper said, greeting them just in front of the striped awning. She gave a little bow, the abrupt and practical type that some martial artists use. "Come sit." She made a gesture with her hand. There was a tarp on the ground, but everyone was standing.

Tank said, "Diet Coke, Pepsi or water?"

"Bottled?" asked Sandburg, sitting down.

"Yeah."

"Water, then, for both of us. Thank you for your hospitality," Sandburg said as he sat. Ellison sat beside him and everyone else settled down as soon as the bottles of water were handed around. The bottles had been chilled in the stream and Sandburg drained half of his before he spoke again. "I am Blair. This is Jim. You are?"

The introductions went around the circle. Sandburg nodded as the last name was given, and took another drink of water, drawing out the moment.

"Let us begin," he said at last. "To be married is an important step. All things are done in order. This is a longer process than the traditional American wedding. First there is a ritual cleansing. You'll need soap and a towel or two. Then the dressing in the wedding garments, followed by a counseling session. After that there is the actual ceremony. You will be making promises to each other, and the words will be your own, so if you had not planned on this, you'll have to decide what you want to say to each other. If you're doing rings I need to have them for a short blessing ceremony. Then there is a ritual exchange of drink, and promises. For that part I'll need boiling water and some cups. Enough for everyone. Are you expecting a lot of guests?"

"Maybe twenty," Tim said. "Maybe."

Sandburg nodded. "Traditionally, then, a feast, followed by a party. We will leave before the party. Is there any element you want included? Do you have attendants or best man of anything like that? Rice throwing or garters, present opening or anything along that line?"

"We asked for no presents, but the presence." Dave told him. "No attendants."

"But we do have rings," Tim added. "Not like wedding bands. In a Celtic design a friend made for us," he said.

"I'll ask for them later. They do fit?"

"Uh, yeah," Tim said, curious, but Sandburg did not explain.

"When are the rest of your guests getting here?" Sandburg asked.

"Should be soon," Tim said with a worried glance down the mountain, "But now we don't know how many will make it. If any."

Ellison could hear a group of five or six approaching, talking about the wedding as they hiked, and knew there were others on the trail a few hundred yards behind them. "They will come," he promised. The members of the group looked at him uncertainly.

Sandburg grinned at his Sentinel. "Good. As soon as they all get here, come down to the stream for the cleansing. Get your wedding clothes together, and a soap, a cloth, a bowl, and towels." Sandburg tilted his bottle up and finished the water. Beside him, Jim handed his over. Sandburg smiled his thanks, took a drink, and stood up still holding Jim's bottle. "Meet us by the stream and we will instruct you." He and Ellison left.

"I like the stilted language. The16 years of formal education was good for something," Ellison said.

"Scoff. But ritual has to sound a little different from everyday language. I'm trying for a balance so that I come across as non-threatening, and only slightly odd."

"Need to work on it."

"Good thing I love you, or I'd be taking offense at that. Come on. I need to piss."

"Again?"

"Hey. It ruins a shaman's dignity to be jumping around holding his crotch during the ceremony."

"True. But they'd never forget their wedding."

Sandburg punched him in the shoulder and danced away from any retaliation.

They hiked far enough away, found a tree to pee against, and then went to the stream to wash their hands. Sandburg insisted on hiking up and then down the little stream, which was snow melt and small enough to step across, looking for a place with a big rock and a shallow bank.

"You're going to make these guys wash in ice water," Ellison said, amused.

"Ritual. You want to remember your wedding," Sandburg said, but he was grinning.

"You're not going to do the washing." It was a warning.

"Duh. Help me check out the plants, make sure they won't get a rash from anything they might accidentally touch while they're nude."

"Looks okay."

"Good. Now, you go get them and lead them here." Sandburg ordered.

"I hear and obey, oh shaman."

"Asshole. Okay. It did sound bad, you're right. Uh...please go bring the couple here. How's that?"

"Better." Ellison vanished between the trees. Sandburg sat and finished off the rest of the water he carried. Pretty soon, Jim was back, with the two men behind him in single file. Sandburg said nothing until Jim stepped to his side and they both faced the men on the bank.

"We will leave you here to bathe. We will be on the path, just out of sight, with our backs to you, that none disturb you. You must take off all your clothing and stand either beside or in the water. You will wash each other, every inch, and then dry each other right away. Do you understand?"

"Uh. Yes." Dave still sounded uncertain about this.

"Yes." Tim sounded excited.

"When you are totally clean, put on your wedding garments. Leave the towels and everything behind, to be collected later. Come up to us, and we will escort you to a place where you will speak to each other, working out the words you want to use when you make your promises to each other in the ceremony. Make sure it is all things you really believe, can really promise. Ignore the traditional words if you want. This is just for you. When everything is ready, you will be brought to the fire for the ceremony." Sandburg paused. "On last thing. Do NOT make love while you are washing each other, or while you are waiting. Or any time during the ceremony. If you want to take the edge off, you can trade blow jobs before you start the ritual cleansing. Otherwise you'll have to start all over again, in new clothing. Clear?"

"Yes." Dave's eyes were big.

"Yes." Tim's eyes were bigger.

"Then you may begin when we are out of sight," Sandburg said.

They walked away. When they were far enough away that they couldn't be heard, Ellison snickered, tried to hold it back, and then laughed. "I know why you did that."

"Okay. Why?" Sandburg challenged.

"You're remembering that they weren't going to have sex on their wedding night, but were going to wait until the next morning after everyone was gone. Just because you can't go a day without it...."

"Who was it I found in my shower this morning?"

"Hey. Ritual cleansing," Ellison stated.

"You did have to clean the shower when we were done, true. Are we far enough away?"

Ellison stopped. "Here, I think. Do you mind staying here and guarding on your own? One of the guests is having a hard time with his tent, and I think I'll go speed things up."

"Okay. Tell them to prepare a place next to the fire ring for the ceremony, and check on the wood, will you?" Sandburg asked. "See if you can sprinkle this onto the wood," he added, handing over a small packet. "While no one is looking."

"Weddings are hard work," Ellison grumbled as he moved off.

"Who knew?" Sandburg agreed, sitting down. He had some thinking to do himself. He had researched the subject of shamanism-a most painful process, as the field had more kooks and wannabes than he could possibly have imagined when he started. He had meditated, learned, changed, and had gradually begun to accept within himself that he was a shaman. But a shaman held his position within a tribe, and although his primary duties as shaman were to the Sentinel, he had known that something was missing. Tribe. He had a circle of friends, professional associates and a thousand acquaintances. He served as a policeman and helped people. But something inside him asked that he do something else. Something more. He needed to give more, or at least, in a more personal manner, to individuals.

This was it. What he could provide. A ritual for those denied the ritual by society. An affirmation, something positive. He had to think about what he would say, what would be best.

The forest grew quiet. Time passed.

"Blair?"

Sandburg opened his eyes and looked up. His Sentinel stood before him, looking down. He had his shirt off, and his body had the shine of sweat and the scent of work.

"I'm going upstream to wash off."

Sandburg stood up, brushing leaves off the seat of his pants. "Tim and Dave?"

"Done with the bath, putting on the clothing. Be back soon." He vanished into the trees. Sandburg blinked and stretched, then turned and waited.

He smiled when he saw the two men coming towards him. They were in white dress shirts and black slacks, holding hands, and they smiled when they saw him. The clothes they were wearing seemed wrong for a wilderness wedding, but hey. Their choice. The faces were right and that was what was important. He waited until they stood before him. He nodded, and then said, "Follow me." He took them back to the stream, but further down, where there was a place to sit. He sank down, gestured for them to do so as well, and said, "Do you know what words you will say to each other when you make your promises?" Rather to his surprise, they nodded.

"Yeah, we worked on it while we did the bath thing. That was okay, wasn't it?" Tim asked.

Sandburg replied, "Fine. Sometimes it takes hours to discuss this sort of thing, so hey, no problem. So we go on to the next part. The counseling session. It's easy. First, I want you to tell me a few things about yourselves. What you say, it's your choice, say what you are comfortable with. If I ask a question you can't answer, tell me so. No lies. Only silence."

The men nodded. There was a small silence. Then Dave said, "Well. I work for a hotel chain in middle management. I guess you'd call it that."

Tim added, "I'm a legal secretary in a three-person office. We met at a dance."

"Screwed on our first date. Instant attraction," Dave confessed, his face going a little red.

"Moved in with each other two weeks later," Tim said. "And it's been three years."

Dave said, "I really like him, you know? I love him, too, but he's really fun to be with."

Tim agreed. "He's easy to love."

Sandburg waited a moment, then nodded. "Tim, I sense a need to, er, air grievances. And from Dave, I sense that he doesn't always talk enough. You are each aware of this, I think. Have you made an effort to deal with these issues?"

"We've talked about it, anyway." Tim said. "We're working on it." He was a little defensive.

"Okay," Sandburg said thoughtfully, and he drew a blank, didn't really know what to say, and part of him was saying he was insane to think he could marry these two. Like pulling teeth to get them to say things. He felt that he didn't know enough to take this any further but then, it was sort of blind-siding them, putting them on the spot that way. His mind floundered around for a minute to think of something else that he could offer them, something useful, and he remembered something Jim had mentioned and so he said. "You get leg cramps," to Tim.

They looked at him as if he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Or maybe an elephant.

"How did you know?" asked Dave.

Sandburg smiled enigmatically and said to Tim, "Take off your shoes."

"Shoes?" echoed Tim, but he was already doing it. His feet were not lovely, knobby toes and pale skin, with a few straggly dark hairs escaping from his legs to grace the top of the feet and some of the toes.

"When people are married they help each other. But this is for Dave, too. I bet he wakes you up when he has leg cramps," Sandburg said, with a slight smile at Dave.

"Screeches like a...." Dave started to say, but caught Tim's eye and decided to drop whatever unflattering comparison he had in mind.

"It hurts," Sandburg went on, with a grimace of sympathy. "First of all, try more calcium in your diet. And stretches before you go to bed, and for some people, you have to make sure that the bed covers aren't too tight. The feet have to move freely. Odd fact, man, some people get leg cramps more frequently when they start sleeping with someone. They turn in the night and don't move naturally, and then the leg ends up in not quite the right position. What do you sleep in? Full, queen, king?"

"A regular bed," Dave said. "Full."

"If you can, get a queen. Or even a king. Tim there is a big guy. He needs some room. Anyway, I'm going to show you a pressure point. Hard to do on yourself, can't reach, you need your partner to do it. And do it the sooner the better, before the cramp has a chance to really knot up. So, on the foot that's cramping? Between the last two toes. Up from the webbing about an inch, inch and a half. Even two inches, sometimes. Different on each person, so you'll have to experiment, find the spot. So Dave, here's how you test for it. Take your finger and press sort of hard. Right about there. Higher. Lower. Now Tim, you tell him when it feels different. It just does, more sore or sensitive or something. Find the spot. It will take both of you to do it."

"Ow!" Tim complained, jerking his foot back.

"Found it, Tim? Okay. When the cramp starts, find that spot on the foot of the leg which is cramping, press down hard just like that. Right on the center of the most sensitive area. One hand under the foot or holding it. Nice steady pressure, and if you are doing it right it will hurt. You'll think for a second that it's worse than the cramp, but then, all the sudden, the cramp will just sort of let go. As soon as it does, tell Dave to let up with the pressure. Once in awhile the leg will try to cramp again, but just, you know, repeat it. The pressure. Ease your leg out, curl the toes back towards the leg, don't point them. And then don't have sex right away, it just puts pressure on that leg again. This is a cuddle afterwards and make it better thing."

"It really works?" Tim asked, skeptically.

"Yeah, it does. Except about five percent of the population has the spot buried so deep inside that it just doesn't get the pressure. I've seen people with bruises there, trying to get it hard enough. It's up to you if the hard pressure hurts more than the cramps."

"This is the strangest wedding I have ever heard about," Dave said.

"Hey, you should see the demonstration I'd have to do if one or both of you were a woman. There are these two places on the lower back, one each side of the spine, that help with the other kind of cramps. A husband who can ease cramps, man, is gold."

He realized that the two men were looking at him a little funny. Hell, he had just given away one of the four Sandburg Secrets for wowing the ladies-one he had very little call to use any more-and these two didn't have any use for the information either. It made him chuckle and he stood up. "Put your shoes on. We're going to go to the camp, me first, then the two of you together, then Jim," Sandburg waved at Ellison, who had come up behind the two men silently, and they both jumped a little as they realized he was there.

Sandburg hoped the ceremony he had thought up would be dramatic enough. Wedding's that didn't have lots of tradition needed drama. If he'd known he was going to be doing this, he would have brought a drum. Ah, well. Improvise. He was good at that.

He turned and began to walk to the camp, and when he came into the clearing he shouted, loudly, "Hie!" Everyone looked up, talk stopped.

"Draw near and listen." Everyone came over, forming a semi-circle around them. He said, "Is there water ready, hot?"

"Yes. Sir. Uh." someone answered.

"When I call for it, bring it to me, it should be not quite boiling. Also have cups ready. We will go to the fire. Jim and I will stand, to the north. On the south, all the witnesses. Leave enough room around the fire for a person to walk. Try to range by height so all can see. Dave will stand to the east, Tim to the west, until I call them to come and stand before me. Listen respectfully as they make their promises to each other, do not speak unless a question is asked to you directly. After their promises, I will call for the water. Dave, Tim, before you take your positions, be sure you hand your rings to Jim, here. Are there questions you wish to ask?"

There were none. Sandburg led the way. There was a pile of branches in the fire pit, ready to light. The water was heating on a nearby camp stove. When all were in place, Sandburg realized he would have to use first names because he wasn't one hundred percent sure of their last names and did not want to make a mistake. Everyone stepped into place. Sandburg waited until it was quiet, and then waited some more. The wind moved in the trees, and a bird sang a small sharp trill. He waited until the sound faded away.

"Step forward," Sandburg commanded, beckoning to first Tim, then Dave. Hesitantly, they came to stand before him. "You have listened to your hearts and decided to do more than just live together. You have each turned to the other. This is your ceremony of commitment. Tim, you have chosen Dave, above all others. Is this true?"

"Yes." Tim's voice was up a few octaves, and his nerves were making his fair face flush.

"Dave. You have chosen Tim, above all others. Is this true?"

"Yes." Dave was looking at Tim.

"Then we who are assembled here will witness the promises you make to each other. Turn and talk to each other, speak as you will, and when you are done, face the witnesses."

There was an awkward silence.

They Tim began, and when he ran out of words, Dave spoke back to him, haltingly. Their words were not smooth and some of it did not make sense to Sandburg, but listening carefully, he decided that promise words like these were always going to sound not-quite-right to everyone else. What was in the heart was the most important thing. When they were finished, Sandburg turned to his own life partner and said, "Did you hear truth in the words, in their hearts?"

Ellison said, solemnly, "I heard truth."

"Then as you have heard their truth, you may present them with the rings."

As Ellison held out the rings on his palm, flat, Sandburg said, "Pick up the ring which you are giving to your lover. Then take the symbol of the ring, unending love without beginning or end. Say just a few words of love and slip in onto the finger where it will be worn."

They did as requested. Tim spoke first. "I love you," he said, and shook a little as he hurriedly, and a bit awkwardly slid the ring onto Dave's finger.

Dave took up the other ring, held it tightly for a brief second, and then he steadied Tim's hand with his own and said, "I love you," in return. The ring was on. There was a long moment of silence.

Sandburg nodded, and lifted his head. "Bring the water."

It was brought by Tipper, who mimed embarrassment that it was in a enamel coffee pot instead of something fancier. Sandburg only smiled at her and mouthed, "It's fine." He took out a packet from his pocket and lifted his voice. "Here is tea made from leaves of the orient, and also here is sage, for wisdom, bilberry for contentment, dried roses, for romance, salt for life." He let the leaves and dried bits fall into the water, adding them slowly, until all were gone and he tucked the empty packet back into his pocket. "Cups," he called, and Tipper brought them. Styrofoam. Sandburg flinched just a tiny bit, but shrugged internally.

"I will ask our couple to come forward. They will choose one cup and fill it, a little more than half full. This one cup, shared by two, is the symbol of your life together. Make sure it is cool enough to drink, then each will sip in turn from it, taking turns until the liquid is gone. This is your promise, taken into the body of the other. It says, I will warm you. I give you sustenance. I will be your guard and guide. Each offers it to the other, in equal promise. Drink all of what is in the cup.

"When you are finished, you will turn and begin to fill the other cups. You will offer a cup to each person who approaches you. Your friends will come to share this tea with you. Those who are couples may, if they wish, take one glass and share it with their significant other. It can be a renewal of commitment or just a statement that you are together at this moment. Widow or widower, take a cup, and drink it in memory of love, which never really dies. Those who have not found one to share a life drink to the power of love, which we witness here." He paused and said to the couple, "After they all have their cups of tea, you fill your cup again so that you drink with them."

The two did as they were told, trading the cup back and forth, sip for sip. It was so simple, but charming, to see each pause, looking into each other's eyes, seeing them as they really looked at each other. There was more than one damp eye among the watchers.

Then, as a couple, the men began filling the other cups for the guests. The line formed, and it was almost silent as the tea was shared. The last cup was offered to Sandburg. He smiled, took it, sipped, and handed it to Jim. He lifted his head to watch and paused, entranced, because Jim was looking at him over the rim of the cup, and handing it back without breaking the eye contact. Slowly, he drank again, his lips trembling against the edge of the cup, his eyes on Jim, who was watching his mouth with an intensity that told them both he wanted to kiss it.

Only the knowledge that almost everyone was looking kept them from an embrace. Sandburg handed the last of the tea to Jim, turned to the crowd, and said the word aloud.

"Kiss!" And as the Dave and Tim obeyed, and as all eyes had turned to them, Sandburg unobtrusively struck a match and tossed it into the fire. It lit with a woosh, and the smoke which curled up from it was shaded with green and blue, and spiraled up in the slight breeze.

"These two are one. At this point, we clap, scream, yell out our congratulations and start the party!" Sandburg said with enthusiasm, and wished again for a drum or a rattle. Still, they made some noise, and Tipper brought out the cake and Tank popped the first bottle of champagne, and soon everyone was sitting around the fire, talking.

Sandburg did not mean to be mysterious at first, but when asked what he did for a living, he told them, "Oh, man, you do not want to know!" and only grinned after that. The group was more or less his own age, but he felt older than they, a bit apart and yet possessive of them, as if they were his, somehow. Tribe.

And he entertained them, telling long tales of wedding traditions around the world, enjoying the telling in a strange way he could not have described. It was the first time since he had become a cop that he had allowed himself to access that part which was still, and always, an anthropologist. It was almost like having students again; better, perhaps, because these men and women listened to the shaman more intently than the students, most of them only a year from their teens, had listened to the teacher.

Jim sat beside him, drinking a little of the wine, eating his share of the cake passed to them and most of Sandburg's, too. He watched, listened, said little. His eyes were almost always on his lover. As the conversation slowed, he stood up, pulling Sandburg with him.

Clue. Sandburg smiled, because he agreed with his Sentinel's message. "We will leave you now, to your celebration."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? The food's going to be good," Tim said

Jim shook his head.

"Let me-us-escort you to the trail," Dave said, pulling Tim up. "I want to say thank you again." They walked in a group to the branch in the trail, and when they stopped, Dave said, "I know that usually one offers a payment to the preacher, and I want to...."

"Hey. No," Sandburg said, holding up a hand as Dave's dipped towards his back pocket. "If you want to give money away, a donation to the High Sierra Homeless Shelter in Cascade would help a lot of people. And here's my card, with an e-mail address if you need to get in touch with me for any reason." He handed it over, they shook hands, and with a wave, they left the newlyweds standing entwined, at the edge of the trail. The two were kissing deeply before Ellison and Sandburg were even out of sight.

"Man, they are never going to make it through the night without starting the honeymoon," Sandburg laughed.

"No bets there. That was not the card with the CPD contact information," Ellison observed as they hiked.

"No. An e-mail address I put together a couple of years ago for anonymous research responses," Sandburg agreed. They walked in silence for awhile.

"This whole thing. The wedding. Surprised me," Ellison confessed as they neared their camp.

"Hey, I told you I can do weddings," Sandburg said with a grin.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Sandburg agreed. "When do you suppose we got married? Because we definitely had a reaffirmation moment, there with the tea. I never felt this was our wedding, but it definitely felt like renewing our vows. Which, considering we never actually vowed anything...."

"Should we?" Ellison asked, softly.

"What, the whole thing? A traditional-whatever the hell that is-wedding? Or the Bathing, Promises, Tea and Fire? Followed by Party for our Friends or Family?"

"You left something out."

"Honeymoon? Jim, every night is like honeymoon, with you. Come to think of it, so are the mornings, the afternoons and, if you recall, a few weeks ago, lunch."

"But do you think...."

"If you need ritual, you can have it. Anything you like. Even the party. Although a party-those are dangerous. People will give you things. Those great presents people are always giving newlyweds. Cake knives, fish slices, silver candle snuffers."

Jim snorted.

"Hey. I can think of some really kinky things to do with candle snuffers." Sandburg assured him.

"Sandburg!"

"Okay. No candle snuffers."

"What's a fish slice?" Ellison wanted to know.

"I dunno. A friend of mine complained once about getting two of them. Said one was more than anyone needed." They arrived at their camp. Their things had not been disturbed. They began moving around, finding fuel for a small camp fire, getting out the lantern stove, the food for dinner-already prepared, wrapped and ready to tuck into the fire, the small coffee pot in which to boil the water they had packed in. They settled in beside the fire, drinking more tea and sharing one cup again, waiting for the fire to die down enough to make coals.

"So," Sandburg said, picking up the conversation where they had left it. "We set up house, fell in love, did the honeymoon. It's been totally backwards, but-do you want a wedding? I can give you any promise you need to hear, Jim. I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

"Sounds funny, doesn't it," Sandburg reflected, after a sip of tea. "I'm not sure we ever said it. Outside of bed, I mean." He paused. "Maybe we should have. Maybe that's part of what a wedding is. Promises made outside the bedroom."

"Made in front of witnesses so you can't take them back?" Ellison suggested. "So you can't change the rules later?" Things change later, even if you don't want them too. Just as long as Sandburg didn't stop loving him. The way Carolyn did.

Sandburg gave a short snicker. "You wouldn't make me promise to love you forever. You'd make me promise to clean the bathroom every other day."

"Sounds good," Ellison answered.

"So, if you don't want the ceremony, is it the rings you want?" Sandburg asked.

"Rings bother me. Only sometimes, but...."

"For someone with heightened senses that makes sense. No outward signs needed?"

"I don't need them. The senses give me all the reassurance I need, I guess. But if you do-"

"No, I'm fine." Sandburg gave a small smile and added, "Although if you're not allergic to henna I'd like to try some tribal patterns some time. Dyed onto the skin. Sort of temporary permanent."

"For ceremonies?"

"For the next wedding we officiate at?"

"There's going to be another one?"

"Pretty sure, man."

They sat by the fire in silence for awhile.

"We?" Jim said, softly.

Blair leaned against his sentinel, enjoying the warmth of the skin and the solid body against his. "Always 'we'," he said. They sat together quietly for a few more minutes.

Then Jim tucked their foil-wrapped food packets against the coals and said to Blair, "While it's cooking...."

Blair grinned and followed Jim into the tent.

* * *

End

The Shaman's First Wedding by Tazy: alihotsy@gimmefic.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.


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